Chapter 6
1051 Words
Jane
My face was hot, my heart hammering in my chest as laughter filled the old shelter.
I heard Austin’s voice above the others - warm, low, and unbothered.
“Hey,” he chuckled, “don’t strangle me.”
That was when I realized it was his sleeve I had grabbed. My fingers were still twisted in the thick fabric of his hoodie, and a wave of mortification washed over me so strongly I wanted the ground to swallow me. I felt so pathetic. Some tough hockey player I was - clinging to the golden boy of BU like a toddler with a security blanket. Mortification washed over me in a wave. I tried to let go immediately, but his hand closed over mine before I could pull away.
“Easy,” he said.
His tone wasn’t kind, exactly. It was lazy. Like this was funny to him. Like I was just some scared kid. He tugged gently, guiding my frozen arm back to my side. Then, without asking, he reached for my collar and straightened it with annoying precision.
“There,” he said, so smugly I wanted to punch him.
And then he actually patted my shoulder.
“Don’t freak out,” he added, voice softening. “Just stay close. You’ll be fine.”
I wanted to snap at him. Tell him to go to hell. Tell him I didn’t need his pity. But all I managed was an embarrassed grunt as I hunched my shoulders, trying to make myself smaller.
The air in the shelter was cold and smelled like damp stone. Every footstep echoed, every laugh rebounded weirdly, like ghosts mocking us. I hated it. I hated the dark, the way the walls pressed in, the smell of mildew. Most of all, I hated the way my own fear was making my palms sweat and my breathing stutter.
Get it together, Jane.
But I couldn’t stop glancing at the walls, sure the shadows would move. Every whoop or yell made my heart jump like I was eleven again and terrified of ghost stories I used to read under the covers. Austin stayed close enough that our shoulders brushed when the path narrowed. When he noticed me flinch, he huffed out a laugh that was low and almost cruel.
“Seriously,” he drawled. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”
“Shut up,” I hissed.
He only smirked.
“Keep your eyes forward. Watch your step.”
I tried. I really did. But I stumbled on a piece of rubble right then and almost fell face-first into the wall. His hand shot out and caught my arm, fingers wrapping with practiced ease like he’d done this before.
“See? What’d I tell you?”
He was enjoying this way too much. My face burned hotter. But I didn’t say anything. Because even if I wanted to let go, I didn’t dare. Because Lucas was behind us, howling with laughter about how “Dawson’s gonna need therapy” and making ghost noises. Because it was either clutch Austin’s sleeve or admit how terrified I really was. So I held on. And, annoyingly, he let me.
When we finally emerged from the far side of the tunnel, blinking in the pale morning light, the cold air hit my face so hard I gasped. Austin dropped my sleeve immediately and raised an eyebrow at me, smirk firmly in place.
“See?” he said, all smug. “Alive. Told you.”
I punched his arm, harder than I needed to. He just laughed, teeth flashing like he’d won.
We regrouped around the fire pit to grab our bags as some sleepy players packed up the tents. The entire time, I felt Austin’s eyes on me. Watching. Not saying anything. But I could feel the amusement rolling off him in waves. When I glared at him once, he just winked and shouldered his duffel, like this was all some private joke.
Packing up was chaos. Sleeping bags half-rolled. Tents collapsing on heads. Lucas and some of the guys shoving each other over who got the last of the granola bars. I kept my head down and focused on my stuff. My bag felt like it weighed fifty pounds as I swung it over my shoulder. The entire time, my brain buzzed with leftover adrenaline.
Stupid shelter. Stupid fear. Stupid Austin.
When we were finally ready to go, everyone started scattering toward the edge of the camp where a few cars and the bus were parked. I hung back. I didn’t want to stand out. Didn’t want anyone to remember how I’d squealed like a kid in the tunnel.
I trudged toward the bus, eyes on my feet, trying to calm my hammering heart. And then I heard the low rumble of an engine. Austin’s car rolled up slowly next to me. I tried to ignore it. Didn’t work. His window rolled down.
“Dawson,” he called, voice smug and lazy.
I kept walking.
“Hey. James.”
I sighed and turned.
“What.”
He actually had the audacity to look amused.
“Where’s your stop?”
I blinked.
“…The bus.”
He snorted, one eyebrow arching like I was an i***t.
“Yeah, genius. Where’s home?”
I shifted my bag on my shoulder, refusing to meet his eyes.
“Near the edge of Dorchester.”
He lifted a brow, like that amused him even more.
“That’s a long ride.”
“…So?”
He let out an exaggerated exhale through his nose.
“Get in.”
“No.”
“Get in,” he repeated, rolling his eyes.
“I can take the bus.”
“Lucas is taking half the guys, and the bus is gonna be packed. Come on.”
I didn’t move.
Austin narrowed his eyes in that slow, assessing way.
“Dawson. Don’t make me get out.”
My mouth twitched.
“Pretty sure you’re not my dad.”
He actually smirked, flashing teeth.
“Thank God. Now get in.”
I hesitated another second, cheeks burning with the humiliating knowledge that he was right. Then I exhaled hard and yanked the door open. I dumped my bag on the floor and slammed it shut.
- Writer
